Damaged
by TheSociopathicEngineer
Summary: A day in the life of the Turtle's slave. Rated M. 2k14
**River Flows in You**

* * *

His skin feels foreign sliding across mine. I would've thought by now I would be used to it. The slick yet not sticky feel of his forearms; the rough calloused feel of the skin on his joints, scalp and palms. The shocking softness of his cheeks and the unyielding stiffness that was his plastron.

But I am simply not.

And I am no more accustom to the feel of his brothers.

I have gotten used to the lonely nights, the busy days and the discomfort and self repulsion that comes with being used in this way, but I suppose some things are meant to stay acquaint forever. Perhaps it is for the best. Without the foreignness that I only am exposed to a handful of times a week, my life would be completely bland, meaningless.

Though I suppose my life is worthless anyways.

I am nothing but a toy for my masters to use until they get bored of me. The thing about toys is that they can always be replaced.

Master Mikey's bandanna falls down from behind his neck and it tickles mine. An act that reminds me of his brother, Master Leonardo. He doesn't seem to notice and so I pretend I don't either.

I have found the best way to survive under these conditions is to erase any individuality that you have. You must stop thinking for yourself, acting for yourself, _being_ yourself.

I was not brought here to entertain my masters with my witty humour, I am here to offer up my body to their needs at anytime that they choose. This may be what I am fated to do for the rest of my life.

It could be worse. I could be back in the Rings. Being forced to fight to the death against my competitors for the entertainment of others. Though I cannot help but realize that a death in the Rings would at least be honorable; I would go down fighting. Would anyone even take notice if I died here?

Perhaps.

But only the maids would notice. They come into my quarters in the morning to clean and particularly to change the sheets on the bed, they would be the first to see my dead; besides my killer of course. I imagine it would be Master Raphael.

One of Master Mikey's warm arms wraps around my waist and he flips me onto my back. I am exposed to lust filled baby blue eyes for only a moment before he buries his head into the crook of my neck and continues his ministrations. I find his eyes beautiful. There is something about them that I cannot resist. I have found myself the odd time staring into his eyes and unable to look away. They held an innocence that you would not expect in someone who does the things that he does.

The Shredder could be controlling him; it was unlikely. If Master Shredder is he is doing a very bad job. The amount of times I have heard Master Mikey's brothers bring him into their quarters located just outside mine and yell at him for disobeying orders tells me enough to know that Master Mikey is unique.

Unique in a way that I can not specify. I have speculated that Master Mikey may not like the Shredder and therefore disobeys him any chance he gets. But is this short-lived rebellion worth the new scars that are periodically finding their way onto Master Mikey's body. Or perhaps is far less intelligent than I give him credit for.

Sometimes I want to ask him about it, but I know it is not my place. According to Master Raphael, breathing their air is not my place.

I don't think Master Mikey or Master Donatello feel the same way; they are far to gentle. Though compared to the way Master Raphael treats me, most things would be considered gentle. Thankfully his visits have only been about one a week as of late.

A warm body covers mine and warm around wrapped tightly around my waste as Master Mikey orgasms. Relief floods through me. Today was a particularly busy day and I am exhausted.

On a normal day I would likely already by sleeping but Master Mikey came to visit me instead.

This is my favourite part when one of my Masters visits me, when they subconsciously grab onto me. Hormones from after their orgasm fogging their mind enough that they mistake me for a lover and they cradle me as such. What I would've give to be allowed to embrace them back.

I doubt Master Mikey would get me in trouble for it. Master Donatello and Master Leonardo would likely remove me from them and not do much else unless I touched them again without permission. Master Raphael would beat me, possibly kill me.

I'm sure he has been trying to find an excuse to kill me.

Master Mikey kisses the side of my neck where his face is buried and I cannot help but lean into it slightly. He was also the nicest to me. Only once has he ever hurt me and I deserved it for resisting him.

He pulled up away from and pulled himself out of me. Unceremoniously and with an unattractive grunt he flopped down onto his plastron beside me. I stay where I am, he hasn't given me any further instruction.

"You're so cute Bunny Rabbit." Master Mikey informs me flirtatiously fingering the receptors on my head.

One of the things I participate in during my 'busy days' are experiments. And one of those experiments resulting in my ears being removed and high power twin receptors taking their place on the top of my head. They were in the vague shape of Bunny ears, hence why Master Mikey calls me Bunny Rabbit. I don't think any of them actually know my name. Master Raphael told me my receptors make me look even uglier than I already am; I agree with him. I think they take away my humanity, make me look like some sort of cyborg that I've seen in movies.

I turn to look at my Master, as I am supposed to when he speaks to me. He has one of his arms under his head which it turned sideways to look at me and the other is extended towards me and still playing with the end of one of my receptors.

"Thank you, Master." My eyes threaten to slid closed with the pleasure that is filtering through my receptors. Master Mikey discovered the day that I received them that my receptors are one of the most sensitive places on my body and he very quickly discovered in what way he needed to touch them in order to get the biggest reaction.

"Sleep little Bunny." He recognized, "They must've had you working hard today."

"Yes." I answer, barley keeping a yawn from escaping my lips. Yawning in front of my Masters especially when they are speaking to me is a great sign of disrespect. I have been punished several times for letting them slip; once in front of Master Shredder. That is a day I will never forget.

"Well then," Master Mikey concludes as he raises himself onto knees and stretches his arms above his head, "it's time for bed."

He leans forward and I already know what he is looking for; the same thing he always is after his visits.

I leaned upwards and lightly touch his lips with mine.

It isn't romantic, it isn't passionate. It isn't even possessive as one would expect. I am not quite sure exactly what it is, but if I had to guess…

It is something like an apology.

Like calling someone ugly and then whispering in their ear that they are beautiful. I doubt very much that he completely regrets his actions, but I do believe that on some level he realizes that what he is doing is not right.

Sometimes I accept it and sometimes I don't. Either way, he always comes back.

In fact, I see Master Mikey more than any of his brothers. Master Raphael despises me and generally he only visits me when he can no longer ignore his sexual desires or he needs to take his anger out of someone. It isn't uncommon for him to visit me and only beat me. That is actually more common place than him coming in here to have sex with me.

Master Donatello and Master Leonardo usually only come here when their sexual desires become to much for them to handle. Though Master Donatello has once or twice visited me otherwise.

I watch as Master Mikey pulls his pants back and with one last over the shoulder smile he leaves me alone.

Nearly the second the door separating our quarters closes I am up and off the bed, headed for the bathroom. I disregard the clothes that are left on the floor beside the bed. Had this visit been during the day I would've picked them up. Keeping my room clean during the day is part of my duty to my masters, but the maids will likely be here before my next visitor.

I turn my bathroom shower to the hottest it can go and I walk to the mirror to examine my injurie while the water is warming up.

Master Raphael visited me this morning and he left some nasty bite marks along me neck, shoulder and the more vicious of them all is on my side. He was not happy with me today. Or he was not happy with someone else and he took it out on me.

I hadn't had a chance to shower after his visit because of a check up that was scheduled with my experimenter, Baxter Stockman. He had done a feeble patch job on the mark on my side because it was bleeding all over the table but otherwise he left them be.

They were angry red and I was particularly concerned about the little white lines that are now surrounding the bit on my side. How did I extract an infection after only a few hours of the wound not being cleaned? I likely caught it from Baxter's lab, he never was the clean type.

I dismissed the thought, there was nothing I could do about it now and I entered my steaming shower. The water burned my skin and seared my wounds. The pain nearly brought me to my knees but I managed to withstand it. This was the only way to clean them.

After a few moments the pain ceased almost completely and I commenced cleaning myself. After washing and conditioning my hair, I shaved the many body parts that I was required to keep clean and then I gently cleaned the throbbing bite marks.

There is no doubt in my mind that there are bruises all over my body, not only from Master Raphael, but Master Mikey sometimes grips me too hard when he gets really excited. All's well I guess, as a few bruises heal a few more are added.

I gingerly step out of the shower and stand there for a moment enjoying the feel of the steam that gently caresses my bruised and battered body.

Fatigue is a powerful motivator however, and I soon find myself dressed in a simply short-sleeved turtle neck black body suit. Out of all the outfits I am provided this is the least skimpy and revealing.

I exit the bathroom and do not head for the bed. I instead journey into the closet.

Against the far wall there is a pile of plush blankets on the floor. This is where I sleep.

When I first made a bed here I only have a few blankets. The next morning the maids had given me literally dozens of more blankets to use. They claimed that no one liked the plush blankets anyways.

I view that day as one of the best days I have spent here.

After sleeping here for almost a year I have created somewhat of a nest, that dips in the middle and bunches up at the edges.

I reach the edge of my nest and I summer sault into the middle and smile despite myself. This is my favourite part of the day. None of Master's have ever been here, I doubt they even know I made a nest in here; which is why it is so special. This is the last thing that I have in this world that is mine and only mine.

I stretch my arms and legs with a sigh. This was my safe place; where I can imagine that everything is okay.

I don't usually cover myself with any blankets. My quarters are kept about as warm as my Masters, which is very warm. Perhaps because they are turtles but I wouldn't really know.

I gaze out at the stars through the wall sized window in front of me. I don't know exactly where we are, but I know we are not close to any cities because the stars are not obscured by the city lights.

This window is the only one in my room. From it I can tell that we are very _very_ far off the ground, possibly on the top floor of this building. My window faces the ocean, or a very large lake. There is water all the way to the horizon and as far left and as far right as I can see.

I assume that I was given this room with this specific view to drain some hope form my body. After all, there is no chance that I could survive a jump from this far and even if I did I couldn't swim anywhere. The water's too large, deep and wild.

It reminds me of who I used to be. I look fondly back at that person; but I no longer see myself in her. I am pathetic now. Used, abused with not much more time left on this earth.

I sigh again. This time more out of self hate then anything. I curl onto my side and pull my limps close to my centre. My optimism has been wearing very thin over the past few weeks. My hope that something more, something better would happen is gone and I can't find anything worth living for anymore.

I've managed to keep myself from thinking suicidal thoughts, but for how long?

Another sigh and my nose begins to burn. I know I wont cry. I never cry. I haven't cried since I was pulled away from Foxy almost ten years ago. I decided on that day that nothing would worth crying for except for him. Nothing really mattered except for him.

We had both been apart of an experiment put on by the Ring Masters. Through many hours of surgery and years of recovery the experiment basically replaced all of our internal organs, including our brains with machinery. Hence why these receptors were so easily installed. They pretty much just had to plug them in.

I was a monster.

At least I wasn't able to see my inhumanity before, now these receptors mocked me every time I looked in the mirror.

Shortly after Foxy and I recovered we were sent into the Rings. We were a beat all card. Foxy and I cannot die. Because we are machinery, when we break down our parts are replaced. It's as simple as that.

After winning several Rings we were separated. Sold off to the highest bidder. Separately.

The worst day of my life was the last day I saw my best friend. I have no idea where he is, if he is okay. I don't even know if he is still alive.

A single tear falls down my face.

For Foxy. And the hope that one day I will see him again.


End file.
